


You Know What They Say About Expectations

by nightvaleanlibrarian (kazosah)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anxious Carlos, Awkward Carlos, First Day in Night Vale, M/M, also they bang, and handsy, carlos and cecil meet in a club, carlos gets drunk, carlos is the dad of the scientist team, everything is vague, vague drunken sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazosah/pseuds/nightvaleanlibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos hadn't expected any of this. He wasn't supposed to be there, really. And in the past 24 hours he would have never anticipated any of this to happen to him, least of all a silly, pretty radio host that could romanticize almost anything with that ridiculously alluring voice of his. Carlos hadn't expected this to be the fervent start to his life in Night Vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know What They Say About Expectations

He hadn't expected any of this.

Because technically he wasn't supposed to be there; Night Vale, that is.

All this top secret, hush-hush, government funded business that he couldn't even tell his parents about. They gave him a lie to feed to everyone he knew; parents, friends, colleagues, neighbours. As far as they knew he, and a select few other scientists in varying fields, we're being sent to a sort of get-away. _For what_? Carlos had wondered, but it hadn't mattered, like they said, since no one asked what he'd done to be chosen for such an excursion. A 'get-away' didn't sound bad at all, it sounded like a reward, hence no one questioning and everyone giving him their congratulatory blessing.

It was the blessing of luck, he assumed, that he'd really need. He was the leader of a motley crew of interns, basically. They were fresh out of college, some still in college, while Carlos had graduated years ago. He was the head honcho, the boss, the... senior of staff, technically. And _this_ , whatever _it_ was, was his first leadership role ever thrust upon him, so he was justly terrified. Not only of the prospect of becoming a leader/boss/captain of unruly little pirates, but of this 'Night Vale' place. There wasn't much information - well, there really was, there were entire rooms chock-full of information concerning this mysterious desert city, but Carlos and his team weren't allowed the privilege to study it. All he was granted were instructions: Go into the city, study it, come up with logical explanations of how the city's environment and its citizens function. Night Vale, apparently, was one hell of an enigma if even the people sending him on this project didn't know how to explain it.

'You'll see', they said. And as if Carlos wasn't anxious enough.

 

.

.

 

He hadn't expected this. The loss of control, the complete, utter loss of control like he wasn't even sentient anymore. But of course he was. He could feel the pulsing sensations, at first so sudden and nearly painful, but as time progressed, more slowly than usual, it felt, the pulses dulled, lessened but still lingered. He was splayed out, stark naked on his on new bed, newly christened, head lolling off the side of the mattress, eyes blearily blinking, barely focusing on the one corner of the ceiling that thankfully wasn't spinning.

It was a bad idea, he'd known that going in, but he hadn't had any idea just how quickly that badness would escalate. All because he hadn't expected it, and lost control...

 

.

 

It began on the drive into Night Vale. It was difficult to understand how they even got there. They had a map they couldn't comprehend to save their lives and each of the interns scrabbled and fought, one shouting over the other as they tried to decipher the cryptic map. Carlos glanced away from the road once, just once for no longer than two seconds to snatch the map away before it was destroyed by two interns playing tug-of-war, saying that he would figure this out. But in just that short moment he'd turned away, grabbed the thing and turned back, he was suddenly surrounded by screams of terror rather than anger and petulance. Looking back to the road his eyes widened further when he saw they were headed straight towards a large sign. He slammed both feet onto the brake, the tires skidded, kicking up dirt and pulling up a dusty haze around them. All was quiet as they calmed and allowed their nerves to settle, and when the dust finally cleared they saw it, just five feet away; big, bold and welcoming in spotless white and vivid purple - ' ** _Welcome to Night Vale_** '.

"Well," one of the interns - Jake, Carlos was sure that was his name - breathed, "We're here."

Carlos's shoulders slumped forward, his head thumped onto the steering wheel and after a brief moment of gathering his nerves and wits into working order, he sorted them back onto the highway that led into the city.

It was going to be a _long_ 'get-away'.

And even longer and more painful than Carlos had expected. Jake, it seemed, was going to be his personal demon, talking non-stop and suggesting things when they ought not be suggested. Like how, with the night quickly coming upon them, they should explore the city and find the closest club or bar.

Again, Carlos was reminded that he was technically the old man among a group of college students; he would be reminded of this daily, he was positive. But he was the leader, and though the only real leader-like thing he'd practiced so far was _driving_ them to their destination, he needed to exercise his authority, draw the line, set the rules. Denying them the fun they desired would prove that he was the one in charge, and that they weren't actually here for a get-away like they'd lied and told everyone they knew.

"C'mon, Carlos! Lighten up!"

 _Ugh_ , Jake.

"We're here to study every aspect of the city and compile a report. Not to party," Carlos insisted, gripping the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip as he struggled to read the street signs. Big Rico's Pizza, next to Big Rico's is where they were setting up shop.

"Exactly! And what better way to get a head start on research than to mingle with the locals?!"

Carlos wasn't sure why Jake found it prudent to scramble across the van to hang all over the driver seat's headrest and practically shout in his ear. No matter the volume of his plea Carlos wouldn't relent...

 

.

 

Carlos relented.

Well, he hadn't so much relented, as his loss of control truly began. He wasn't complying really, he was just sort of being dragged by the girls, Julie and Lara, down the street, while the rest of the interns led the way.

They had found their building beside Big Rico's Pizza, parked their totally not suspicious huge van and began unloading - personal belongings and special equipment alike.

It was with all bags and boxes settled on the floor and yet to be unpacked that Jake started again, rallying his fellow interns to try and convince their boss-man that this was a day/night of celebration. They were on the road to discovery and they'd just arrived to the destination. Who knew how long they could take up residence in Night Vale, but tonight was the official night, the beginning! So with or without his agreement, they decided to change clothes and hit the streets.

The loss of control. _God_ , Carlos knew he really wasn't cut out for leadership stuff. But over time... perhaps he'd grow into it. But for now, he scurried away before they tried to rope him in... which they did. And not so much 'rope in' as link in, as his arms linked in vice grip tightness with Julie and Lara's. "It'll be fun," they assured him gently, like he was some damn feint-of-heart rabbit... Which, given the circumstances, was honestly what he felt like, and probably looked like, too.

The sky was a black, endless void, with a few spatterings of stars here and there, but no constellations he could recognize. Interesting. Thought provoking. But he didn't have enough time to continue pondering once the sky left he sight and he was led into a building. A club called 'The Third Eye'.

Carlos's social anxiety shot through the roof. The club was bustling with tons of people, the music was loud, annoying and repetitious, and lights with no definable source flashed painfully without any sort of rhythm. The only pleasant aspect of the atmosphere was the calm purple lighting. And salvation came in the form of the bar crossing his sight.

The interns were already adapted to the loudness and brightness; calling to each other over the sounds, exchanging vague hand motions and nods before they disappeared into the crowd. Drinks were purchased from the bar - relatively quickly, Carlos noted - and soon he found himself alone, unable to even hear himself as he nodded to Julie and Lara to go on when Jake haphazardly made his way over to them with beers in hand. Jake said something he didn't catch, passing him a drink and flashing a wide grin before heading to the dance floor.

He hadn't expected this. An hour and a half into living in the supposedly strange city of Night Vale and he found himself seated at the bar, his back to the majority of the club goers, sipping slowly from a beer he'd never heard of; it must have been a local brew. It had a peculiar taste, sort of bitter, metallic, but then sweet... potatoes? It was odd, but he finished it anyway, and prompted the barman to give him something else; trying to speak through hand signals he eventually ended up with what he hoped was a rum and coke.

He hadn't expected this. To feel so old and boring whilst seated among the very definition of a party scene. Spinning his seat to face the crowd, he searched and successfully picked out some of his team from among the locals. Lara waved wildly at him from where she was jumping along with three women who looked remarkably identical to each other. He gave her a small wave back, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he leaned back against the bar and sipped slowly from his drink.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps there was something in the air, like the smoke that the smoke machine pumped out casting the club in an eerie, cloudy, purple tinted, yet peaceful shroud that made him feel like he was, quoting Jake, loosening up. He wasn't really loathing the environment anymore, in fact, he wasn't wincing at all when they strobe lights blinking rapidly or the bass of the song pounded thunderously. He could handle this, he could be cool... at least for another hour or so, then he'd have to call it a night. This wasn't a get-away after all, this was a serious government funded investigation/experimentation. They were professionals, and they should act as such.

But what he hadn't expected, what he hadn't anticipated in the slightest was _him_. A lanky, suave looking man eyeing him up from across the room. Oddly, Carlos wasn't too creeped out; probably because the guy wasn't bad looking at all with his smart almost business like attire. Plain white button down, black vest, indigo tie and black slacks. Dark hair, but the crown upward was blonde, nearly white and tastefully coiffed. Black rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his straight nose, and behind those frames... well, Carlos had to attribute his wild speculations to the club's lighting and his intoxication, but those eyes looked purple; not even violet, literally purple. Carlos felt parched, and only by his dry tongue did he realized his mouth had been hanging open. God, how ridiculous he must have looked, gawking like a immoral teenager.

He spun his chair back toward the bar to hide his embarrassment and requested one last drink before he made a dash for the exit. "Great idea, kids. Let's bring _Dad_ to the club so he can exercise his incredibly awkward staring problem," Carlos hissed under his breath. He accepted his drink from the barman with a grateful nod and tossed half of it back in one swig. He winced as it burned his throat, no coke in that one, **wow** , but took another breath and tossed back the rest.

He nearly choked, having swallowed half of his mouthful of rum, when he noticed the presence next to him from the corner of his eye. The guy. It was the guy. Oh, god, he was probably totally offended with the way Carlos had stared at him. Oh, god, and he was much taller up close. And much more attractive. Were those tattoos? His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows revealing quite a bit of intricate ink. Dear god, tattooed forearms, how far did those tattoos go, were those runes? And... tentacles? _Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god_! Carlos's mind wailed pitifully as he regained control over his throat muscles and swallowed the rest of the liquid before turning to the guy, facing his doom, most likely.  
But the guy was smiling kindly, seemed like he was holding back a full fledged grin before opening his mouth and -

Carlos couldn't hear a word. The music, though he'd grow used to the volume, was too much for him to hear the man not two feet away from him speaking. But from watching his mouth he easily deduced he'd greeted him with a simple, 'Hi.'

Carlos resorted to hand gestures to explain he couldn't hear a damn thing, only realizing afterward that he should've at least responded with a 'hello' or something first. The guy didn't seemed bothered though, he just tried to talk louder, but it still didn't work. But Carlos, ever the problem solver he was, whipped out a pen from his pocket (can never be unprepared) and snatched a loose napkin from the bar.

Perhaps it was the alcohol... No. It _definitely_ was the alcohol that was fueling his actions. He was writing on the napkin, essentially passing notes to a (stunning) guy sat right beside him at the bar in this new town he was here to investigate and research.

'Cecil'

'Carlos'

'New in town?'

'Is it that obvious?'

'Yes. Very. I've never seen hair as astonishing as yours.'

'Thank you...?

Carlos couldn't help but smile at the unusual compliment, hoping that the redness in his cheeks wasn't intensifying, or spreading the more he 'talked' with Cecil. He stayed in the club longer than he'd predicted he would be able to tolerate, but once again, he hadn't expected _Cecil_ to show up. Both of them ordered themselves more drinks, and as time progressed, the night growing later, the more they drank, the less legible their writing became. Soon they couldn't draw more than a squiggly line let alone a proper letter, and by then they had filled up two napkins of conversation; then do to Cecil's insistent tugging, they were both stumbling toward the dance floor.

No matter how much alcohol intake Carlos still felt like a fool among the crowd, but somehow with Cecil's warm hand encasing his wrist, he felt less anxious. With the lights, and smoke, and sounds, and bodies all around him Carlos felt like he was experiencing a sensory overload. But it wasn't even close. Not until Cecil's hand disappeared from his wrist, and both were replaced gently on Carlos's hips. Carlos's swimming vision cleared then, for the moment, to look to Cecil, only then realizing just how tall the man actually was. The scientist found himself gawking again; lost in those impossibly purple eyes, extremely aware of the hands that held him, yet Cecil wasn't crowding him, there was at least a foot of space between them; the smile on his mouth, and the way he eventually looked away from Carlos's stare, blushing and biting his lip. Carlos felt it start in his gut and spread out slowly to the ends of his hair and the tips of his fingers and toes; he was totally smitten with this peculiarly alluring dude.

And it was definitely the alcohol that would be blamed for Carlos's brash actions; the way he flung his arms around Cecil's neck when his knees finally caught up with him and decided to give out like he was some swooning damsel; and when he leaned up and quickly and unbelievably brushed his lips across Cecil's. Carlos's eyes widened, he couldn't believe it, _how_ could he believe it, he'd only ever kissed two people before, and in reality _they_ had kissed _him_ , frying his brain and startling the science out of him until he could reboot and go about questioning their motive in a methodical manner. Needless to say, one didn't really stick around Carlos for too long since he was so terribly wrapped up in _experimenting_ on everything and _understanding_ anything that provoked his interest.

Carlos was horrified and made to apologize - and to make a grand, stumbling exit - but Cecil was shaking his head with a wiry smile on his mouth and cheeks flaring a bright... well... under the club lighting he looked like he was blushing violet, but it was just the lighting, of course. Carlos's heart was beating a mile a minute, though he should've felt calmer, since Cecil wasn't equally as horrified or disgusted, but it must have been adrenaline, the thrill of being the kisser instead of the kissee. Was the right? He didn't have time to think on it, his heart stuttered and nearly stalled completely when Cecil leaned down, hands cradling Carlos's jaw and kissed him with much more ease and confidence than Carlos' had exuded.

He hadn't expected to go to a club, get drunk, get flirted with, and kissed all within the first night of his arrival in Night Vale. He didn't think he would like dancing, but with Cecil... well, Cecil seemed to make things much more... wonderful. Their shared kiss should've been that, just once, semi-accidental and careful. But Carlos was apparently the goddamn conductor of the drunk train, and like he'd originally planned, he was the first of his team to leave the club, pulling Cecil along by his tie and keeping his lips hot and needy on his.

Carlos hadn't expected to be stumbling and laughing through not-yet-familiar streets toward his new residence/work place with his hands all over an attractive stranger. Though given what they'd 'talked' about on those napkins Cecil wasn't that much of a stranger, he knew quite a bit about him, actually... if only he could recall it. His head swam with hard liquor, neither of them spoke, just laughed at the other when they tripped or swerved dangerously on the sidewalk. It was quiet in Night Vale, deafeningly quiet, but given the blaring loud club atmosphere they had endured for the past few hours of course stepping out into the night seemed too quiet.

Fortunately they arrived at the building next to Big Rico's Pizza unscathed and without getting lost and Carlos patted his trouser pockets for his keys, retrieving them from the left one. He had a watery grin on his face when he looked up at Cecil, and squinting in the scant light from the street lamps he thought Cecil's eyes still looked purple - odd. But his focus on colors was shoved to the very back of his mind when Cecil leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, then inclined his head in a sort of farewell gesture and made to depart with Carlos safely escorted home.

Carlos blamed liquid courage (and a lust he hadn't felt in an age). In the next three seconds he caught Cecil's arm with one hand while the other stuck the key in the lock and flung the door open. It was blur and flurry of movements after that, Carlos couldn't recall much. All he could remember was that they were two drunk, consenting adults and Cecil's touch was sweet, fiery, icy, soothing, amazing, and addictive.

He could remember a brief flash of contrasting skin tones, bronze and ivory (decorated in a plethora of tattoos that appeared to move due to Carlos's drunken vision), and how beautiful they looked together. They still hadn't spoken, but they were beyond words when Cecil got his hand around both of them; only capable of gasps and muffled groans between kisses. Carlos wasn't even sure if he was conscious, if this was actually real or if he'd fallen asleep in the university lab again and was spellbound by a filthy, perfect sex dream. He could feel the tell-tale prickling starting at the base of his spine, on his way, but not even close, whilst Cecil's whining breaths were escalating to a fever pitch. Carlos, whether he was dreaming or not, batted at Cecil's hand until he relinquished his hold with a sound of despair and replaced his own hand on Cecil. It wasn't long until Cecil came, and Carlos caught his whimpers in his mouth, kissing him soundly and stroking until the full body jerking quivers lessened.

Eyes closed and unlikely of opening again, Carlos fell backward, lying with his head lolling off the edge of the bed, exhaustion ready to take him, even if he was still obviously hard. But then Cecil - the one he hadn't anticipated in the slightest; never, ever, even in his dreams would he have expected someone like Cecil - blessed him with his touch again. It felt like his hands were everywhere all at once, teasing, caressing, rubbing. It was a true sensory overload when his lips kissed across Carlos's collarbones, ending with a careful scrape of teeth. Stars burst behind Carlos's closed eyes, his back arched from the mattress, and he was grateful for Cecil's attentive reaction to hook an arm around his waist before he plummeted headfirst onto the floor, still shaking and pulsing with the sensation of his end that felt so sudden and perfect it was almost painful.

Carlos huffed a laugh, eyes lazily blinking open to stare at the spinning ceiling, searching for a piece that didn't spin so much. He hadn't expected this. This complete loss of control that was so utterly perfect. Totally nude and spent with Cecil and close to passing out - he would have never expected any of this as the ambitious beginning of his life in Night Vale.

 

-

 

Carlos woke with a pounding in his skull that wouldn't soon relent. He had a hangover, and this was his first day of work. How professional. Points for being Cool Dad, though. _Ugh, was it really worth it though_? Letting those kids get the better of him, he wondered.

On his side table there was a collection of things that given his shitty health predicament still made him smile.

Pills and a glass of water, he wasn't sure who to thank for that until he saw the note beneath the pills, 'Nice going last night! Good to see you having fun! And don't worry, we'll take care of setting up the lab. - Lara'.

Beneath that note, he found one half crumpled napkin littered with writing, and what looked like a business card. It had 'Cecil Baldwin' scribbled in elegant handwriting, and a phone number beneath. Flipping the card over he read 'Night Vale Community Radio' and its contact information and address professionally printed in black ink. _What_... was all Carlos's mind could manage.

But he was graced with brief flashes of what had occurred upon his arrival home the previous night, and a smile spread across his mouth.  
He grabbed the pills and popped them in his mouth, and took a long sip from the water glass to swallow them down. He nearly choked while he was finishing off the rest of the water when he caught sight of his watch and saw what time it was. Four in the afternoon, he'd nearly slept the day away. He shot out of bed, ignored the throbbing in his head and sought out his professional demeanor, it was time to clean up and get to work.

-

Later on, when Carlos and his team were still in the lab, working excitedly over their finds, he discovered something slightly worse than his surprise $213 bar tab he owed The Third Eye (INTERN JAKE!!!) when Julie turned on the radio, not only was the voice of Night Vale's smooth, velvet tones much more pleasing to his ears that is roused something to spark and flare embarrassingly hot within him while among company, but they also had a penchant for dramatizing and over-sharing. " _He's a scientist and his name is Carlos_!" Thankfully Cecil didn't detail beyond their chatting at the bar at The Third Eye and explaining Carlos's apparently perfect hair and sculpted jaw.

Carlos hadn't expected any of this. He wasn't supposed to be there, really. And in the past 24 hours he would have never anticipated any of this to happen to him, least of all a silly, pretty radio host that could romanticize almost anything with that ridiculously alluring voice of his. Carlos hadn't expected this to be the fervent start to his life in Night Vale... and he wouldn't change it if he could. Because expectations were, well... you know what they say about expectations.

**Author's Note:**

> There are... A LOT... of quotes about expectations, and I'm not really quoting anything with this little fic, I'm just shit-awful at titling things. And it really just started with 'Carlos hadn't expected any of this' because I figure Carlos had a specific mindset of expectations before coming to Night Vale, totally professional and everything, but Cecil was definitely the number one thing he was NOT expecting, TOTALLY BLINDSIDED HIM! Aw, Cecilos.
> 
> And this came about because I was listening to Birthday Massacre's remix of Mindless Self Indulgence's song Never Wanted to Dance. It's dance-clubby, and I think that Cecil would really like that song, well, at least my headcanon Cecil likes that song, hah! And it was also like - what if they met in a club! GASP!
> 
> And this is a bit different from my usual writing. I'm usually always angsty and stuff, and I do actually have a fic in mind for Night Vale that is dark and sad and angsty, but it's still in the outline phase, and who knows, someone who's much better at writing might write it first and then I won't have to! Woo! So this is a bit different! Being sort of happy... or at least neutral... in fic mood. . . Anyway. First WTNV fic! YAAAY!


End file.
